


tfw victor nikiforov starts yelling at you in russian

by missmichellebelle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chihokogate, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Overcome Chihoko, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Chihoko Sato is at Four Continents almost by accident, so the fact that Victor Nikiforov is headed straight towards her is probablyalsoan accident, right?





	tfw victor nikiforov starts yelling at you in russian

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Magyar available: [Az érzés, amikor Viktor Nikiforov elkezd veled oroszul kiabálni](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912296) by [Suonjar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suonjar/pseuds/Suonjar)



> *shows up 15 minutes late with starbucks*

Chihoko Sato was born on a rainy Wednesday in March at a hospital in California. She is her parents fourth (and last) child, and their only daughter. As she grows up, she will never be as good at math as Shota, the eldest son, or as talented a painter as Daichi, the second son, or as beautiful a musician as Jun, the last son. But she will be a better dancer. A better runner. A better athlete.

A better figure skater.

Even if, perhaps, that is not always what her parents had wished for her.

Even if, more often than not, Chihoko had had to fight them every step of the way to prove just how worthwhile it all was. Every lesson. Every coaching fee. Every regional competition.

And she can’t bring herself to regret it.

Not when she’s _here_ , in Gangneung. The first stamp in her passport is for South Korea, and it will always be a reminder of her first international competition. Her first Four Continents.

And she really should be focusing on that. On her parents. On the importance of this competition. On how she may have been chosen as a replacement for Samantha Vasquez but how she just broke her personal best with her SP score to the point where the tears on her face haven’t even dried yet.

But with her coach’s hand on her shoulder, and potentially the ugliest, most badass fish monster plush in the crook of her arm, the only thing her attentions can hone in on is the fact that _Victor Nikiforov_ is speaking to her.

Or yelling at her.

She isn’t quite sure. Maybe Russian is just angry sounding?

After all, he doesn’t _look_ mad. In fact, he’s smiling, albeit in a kind of… Overly large, creepy way that would make her skin crawl if she wasn’t _freaking the fuck out_. Because this is The Victor Nikiforov, Living Legend, five-time world champion. He just took gold at the European Championships. He is the most decorated figure skater in history and he is close enough that she could reach out and _touch_ him if she wanted to.

She wants to. She’s just not sure if she’s brave enough to actually do it.

Chihoko watches his mouth move, face slack with shock and awe. Mostly awe. He’s more _beautiful_ in person than she imagined. If she asked for a selfie, he would take one with her, right? Oh god, her rink mates will never believe her. Maybe she can get a snapchat, too, that is _way_ more hard evidence that this actually happened.

If Coach McKneely’s hand wasn’t on her shoulder, grounding her, Chihoko would pinch herself.

God, she really wishes she spoke Russian so she could understand what he’s _saying_. Why doesn’t her high school offer Russian as an elective? It’s clearly a very beautiful, emotive, _useful_ language. Although it does make her wonder why he’s speaking to her in Russian, she’s pretty sure she doesn’t _look_ Russian, if anything people tend to speak to her in Japanese and—

Wait. _Wait_. Wait a _hot_ second, because Victor Nikiforov isn’t eligible to compete at FC, which means the only reason he’s here is—

“Vitya!”

Chihoko gasps so hard she chokes on it, her coach’s hand coming down hard between her shoulder blades to help her cough her way through it. Oh my god. _Oh my god_.

“Okay, I think that’s enough excitement for today,” Coach McKneely is saying in her ear, and Chihoko can sense the immediate departure in her voice. In a panic, she plants her feet, clutching tightly to her coach’s hand and sending her a desperate look.

 _Please_ , it says. _Please do not take me away from whatever magical thing is taking place in front of me._

“What in the world are you doing?” Asks The Katsuki Yuuri as he walks up to them, glasses slightly askew and hair mildly unkempt as if he rushed to get there as fast as possible. He glances at Chihoko and her coach and gives a small, steady bow, before turning back to Victor Nikiforov and beginning to converse with him… _In Russian_. It’s not as flowing or rapid, but it’s still Russian, which… Well, it’s more than Chihoko can do.

Chihoko’s eyes pingpong back and forth between the two legendary skaters who, by any right, shouldn’t even be at the event rink today. Were they here watching the ladies singles short programs for some reason? That would make the most sense. After all, they’re _famous_ , and probably friends with famous woman’s skaters. Oh god, like Sara Crispino. She also isn’t eligible for FC, but if _Victor Nikiforov_ is here, Sara Crispino could be here, right?

If fate continues having its way with her, Sara Crispino will walk up next and Chihoko will _faint_.

But the fact that they could be talking to Sara Crispinoor someone else equally as famous and amazing and talented and are talking to her (at her? around her?) _instead_ makes the whole situation even more surreal and confusing.

She hears her name a few times, and then Katsuki Yuuri is dragging a hand across his face and turning fully towards her, looking both tired and apologetic. Chihoko can’t blame him—speaking Russian sounds exhausting.

Katsuki Yuuri opens his mouth to say something, and then stops, his eyes widening and landing on the ugly plush that Chihoko is clinging too even more tightly than she had been right after finishing her skate.

“Shachihoko,” Katsuki Yuuri says, and Chihoko blinks at him. Was that… Is he greeting her in Japanese? It wouldn’t be all that uncommon. Her parents _are_ Japanese, and she does know how to speak a _little_ bit, but… She’s never heard _that_ one before. Maybe it’s some kind of honorific?

Oh god, she needs to learn Russian _and_ Japanese.

“J-just Chihoko,” she clarifies, eyes widening as her voice shakes, and Katsuki Yuuri _actually smiles at her_.

“No, I know,” he says, voice warm and kind and thankfully in English. “Chihoko Sato, right? From America.” Unable to form words at the fact that someone like _Katsuki Yuuri_ even knows her name, Chihoko just nods, dumbly. “You’re in 6th after your short program—it was very good. This is your first senior competition, right?”

“Uh, internationally, yes,” she mumbles, unable to make her mouth move properly, and he nods.

“You’re doing very well.”

And _fuck_ autographs or snapchats or commemorative instagram photos. Katsuki Yuuri just told her she’s _doing well_ , and that is worth ten thousands of those other basic mementos.

(She’s still going to ask for a selfie, though, just in case she gets amnesia one day and forgets that Katsuki Yuuri ever said she was doing well on an international level).

“Before,” he starts, and then gestures to her plush again. “It’s a shachihoko,” he explains, and she holds out the stuffed animal, considering it.

“…a _what_?” She finds herself asking, and then hating herself for it immediately. How droll. How very banal. She is having a conversation with Katsuki Yuuri and she most certainly just _humiliated_ herself.

He smiles again, so maybe she’s forgiven.

“It’s…” Katsuki Yuuri pauses, frowning thoughtfully as he mumbles under his breath in what is very obviously Japanese even though Chihoko can’t understand a word of it. He casts a glance at Victor Nikiforov as if maybe he can translate, but Victor Nikiforov has been jarringly quiet considering minutes ago he was emitting an endless stream of Russian. He looks… A little bit like someone just kicked his dog.

Which… Chihoko follows both of them on instagram. She’s _seen_ the dog. If anything happened to that dog, it would probably cause her distress, too.

“Mythical creature?” Katsuki Yuuri finally settles on, eyebrows pinched together as if it’s not the exact translation he was looking for. “Head of a tiger, body of a carp,” he explains, and Chihoko looks at the stuffed animal again. It certainly does have the body of a fish, but the head looks more like some kind of terrifying dragon than a tiger. “One of your fans must have quite a sense of humor, to have given you that.”

 _One of her fans_. Chihoko hugs the tiger-carp-dragon thing more closely to her body, and knows that as soon as this moment out of time with two of the most talented figure skaters in recent memory is over, she’ll be googling the _shit_ out of shachihoko. She wonders if the name is taken on instagram.

“Chihoko,” Coach McKneely says again, hand on her shoulder, and she _knows_ , she knows that tone of voice. She’s still in her short program outfit. She’s still in her _skates_. This is her first time skating outside the States and she knows that there’s press that needs to be done. She isn’t the first choice for FC, and she _knows_ that. With hardly any medals to her name, press right now is _important_. Her image, her brand, all of it is on a knife’s edge. Nobody knows who Chihoko Sato is.

(Except, apparently, Katsuki Yuuri, and she wishes there was some way to vocalize how much that means to her now—and how much more it will mean to her on her worst days.)

“I—” Chihoko swallows, glancing at her coach and then back at the two skaters before her—known in their own right for their careers, and known beyond that for their romance.

“Press?” Katsuki Yuuri smiles at her again, and Chihoko wonders if anyone can see them. That maybe when she gets back to her hotel room, she’ll be lucky enough to find a fan recording of this entire encounter. “We understand.” He glances at Victor Nikiforov, a dangerous glint coming over his eyes as he says, “ _Vitya_.”

Victor Nikiforov actually, honest-to-god, _flinches_.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Victor Nikiforov says, sounding completely genuine and even going as far as to look _abashed_. Chihoko is so astonished by the fact that he is speaking to her and she can understand it that it takes her far too long to process what he’s saying. “Good luck in your free skate,” he says, and _smiles_ , and Chihoko is not sure how she is still standing with the force of that smile aimed at her but—miraculously—she is.

“Can I get a selfie?” She blurts out, just before her coach no doubt drags her away, and _Victor Nikiforov_ laughs, sunshine bright as he says _sure_.

If asked, Chihoko will not be able to recount what she said to the press. It will take her twelve hours to fully process that both Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri posted pictures with her to their own instagrams, and that she gained nearly four thousand followers overnight as a result. Before she goes to watch the mens short programs, she will post a picture of her shachihoko plush, newly defaced with two sharpie black signatures, and caption it with _I can’t believe I died_. Both Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri ( _and Phichit Chulanont, and Christophe Giacometti, and fucking Mila Babicheva_ ) comment on it.

The morning of her free skate, Chihoko's phone notifies her that Sara Crispino and Mila Babicheva both started following her on instagram. She falls out of bed and spends an hour on the phone with her best friend and rink mate Cassie, crying the whole time.

And when she takes to the ice for her warm-up before she performs her free skate for the world, she spots Victor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri in the audience, holding a sign:

**OVERCOME,**  
**CHIHOKO**

**Author's Note:**

> so people were throwing around ideas about Chihoko being another figure skater that poses enough of a threat that Victor puffs up his chest and gets all Jealous™, but for some reason I really liked the idea of actual-person-Chihoko being like... completely harmless.
> 
> enter Chihoko Sato, 16yo female skater from America, literally at FC by _coincidence_ , who doesn't understand why Victor Nikiforov is even breathing near her let alone talking to her
> 
> AKA the story about how Yuuri and Victor end up adopting another teenage skater
> 
>  
> 
> [come bother me on tumblr or something](http://missmichellebelle.tumblr.com)


End file.
